Robert Graves Poems

'Come, surly fellow, come! A song!'
What, madmen? Sing to you?
Choose from the clouded tales of wrong
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Frowning over the riddle that Daniel told,
Down through the mist hung garden, below a feeble sun,
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As I walked out one harvest night
About the stroke of One,
The Moon attained to her full height
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On pay-day nights, neck-full with beer,
Old soldiers stumbling homeward here,
Homeward (still dazzled by the spark
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My familiar ghost again
Comes to see what he can see,
Critic, son of Conscious Brain,
Spying on our privacy.
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Can I find True-Love a gift
In this dark hour to restore her,
When body's vessel breaks adrift,
When hope and beauty fade before her?
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This is a wild land, country of my choice,
With harsh craggy mountain, moor ample and bare.
Seldom in these acres is heard any voice
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'Are you awake, Gemelli,
This frosty night?'
'We'll be awake till reveillé,
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It's hard to know if you're alive or dead
When steel and fire go roaring through your head.
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Gulp down your wine, old friends of mine,
Roar through the darkness, stamp and sing
And lay ghost hands on everything,
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